Of Pancakes and Dragons
by SilverUmbra
Summary: I knew entirely why I was putting myself through this humiliation, and there was nothing I could really do about it. It was, after all, for her. Dracoshipping.


**Here's a fluffy little one shot I felt like doing. I don't think Mew has a kitchen, but if she did, this is something that would definetely happen ;D. Well, R&R! **

* * *

It was silly, really. 

When one imagines the fabled, all powerful legendaries, they imagine, well, fabled, all powerful legendaries. When humans recorded us in their stupid books, they again, made us big and proud and ferocious. I, for one have, been recorded _multiple_ times with _multiple_ heads. Either I've been in caffeine withdrawal my entire life, or humans tend to elaborate. Or have double, er, quadrupal vision.

To the basics, half the time, we aren't what we seem. For instance, I happen to lack the dietary pattern of a carnivore and actually live off of particles in the ozone layer. Surprisingly, these choppers aren't meant for ripping flesh apart at all. And I _don't_incinerate everything I see, Deoxys was the_one _exception. She had insulted my mother. If I had one, I'm not sure, actually.

So, to the point, I'm not that great, and I'm definitely not too noble and proud to go to the big Fall Sale at the local Kecleon store. Nor am I too proud to wear one of those silly party hats on National Legendary Day.

But there is one thing I _am_ too proud to do.

And that happens to be what I'm doing right now.

See, my entire life I've never had to do cooking of any sort. I wasn't aware that any Pokemon would have to. Since I, like I said before, live entirely off of blessed ozone particles, I never had a reason to, either.

So why was I putting myself through this humiliation?

One word: Latias.

See, all of the legendaries, (Except for Jirachi, but that's because she's sleeping half the time or drowsy beyond communication) had heard about Latios' recent passing. And it hurt. A lot. Darkrai, being the tactless idiot he was, had stated that there must be a pattern, seeing how Latios' own father had died for the same reason. To protect Altomare, always.

Latias took it the worst, as expected. She locked herself in her garden and refused to come out for days. And finally, when she did, her mirth was gone, her golden eyes didn't twinkle like they had before, she was, to put it simply, a wreck.

And of course, again, Darkrai commented on this, which resulted in the red and white dragon fleeing and the dark legendary being thrown into the ocean by a severely pissed metal swan.

And also resulted in me, while in Mew's kitchen, seeing as I didn't have one, cooking her favorite meal. And failing miserably.

Even worst, Mew, being the jerk she was, commanded that I had to wear an apron, with the writing 'Kiss the Cook'. Why didn't I just complete the picture and wear one of those silly hats too, then? It couldn't be any worst.

Well, until I actually tried the, er, cooking part.

One large cook book pinned down with my large green claw, I examined the recipe. Pecha and Bluk berry pancakes. That couldn't be that hard, right?

"Step one." I read, my eyes squinting in the bright light of Mew's tacky lamps "Gather your materials..."

I blundered through Mew's cabinets and felt one paw brush the rough paper flour bag. I went to grasp it-

FOOM!

White powder billowed out from the mouth of the cabinet and covered the counter, floor and my own emerald face in its silky grasp. I slowly blinked, half dazed and half bewildered.

Mews voice floated from the next room "I hope you know you're cleaning that up."

I only sighed.

* * *

**Step two, Mix the ingredients in a medium sized bowl.**

After sweeping up the mess and locating a second package of flour(Careful to retract my claws this time), I set up for the next step.

"Measure flour and dump into bowl..." I did that without much conflict " Add the baking soda," this too, was done easily "Milk. Done." Okay... "Salt..." Easy. "Butter..." I was starting to get supicious. And my caution was granted.

"One egg, slightly beaten."

And everything pretty much went down hill from there.

* * *

Using a hot sponge, I wiped the floor of its pale yellow coating, grumbling about stupid gravity and things of that nature. After cleaning the splattered dairy from the tiles, I turned back to the bowl. The hardest part seemed to be done. 

Right?

* * *

**Put mixture on the grittle and then pray that it turns out okay.**

Wrong.

My first failure(Or fifth if you wanted to be specific) was a common mistake. I forgot to grease the pan. It happens.

I waved the pan around desperately, trying to dislodge the sticky substance from the metal. With todays tecnology, Mew could have at least gotten a nonstick!

Fling!

The pan went flying toward Mew's very expensive window.

Crash.

I cringed.

"Whoops?"

* * *

**Next time, just buy some chocolate, the abuse of cooking is not worth it.**

Beaten multiple times over the head by Mew (With the same pan from earlier) I dragged myself over to the plate of black, burnt, completely ruined 'pancakes'. I poked one, and it hissed at me.

The kitchen door opened, and the red and white dragon floated in. Her eyes surveyed the battle zone, the egg guts, the flour altillery. And then, finally on poor, beaten me. The only survivor. And loser.

I gave a weak grin "I, er, made you so pancakes?" it was more of a question. I wasn't sure if the black, coal-like stuff really could be classified as pancakes. Maybe rocks.

Her golden eyes lit up, and she did something she hadn't done in days.

* * *

She smiled.

* * *

**Thank your poor excuse for cooking, I guess sometimes the abuse _is _worth it.**

* * *

**There we go! Hope you liked!  
**


End file.
